


A Life You Don't Despise

by sevenfists



Series: Geography for Beginners [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-18
Updated: 2006-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: Jensen wakes up alone the next morning, tangled in the white cotton sheets of Jared's bed. He doesn't know what time it is.





	A Life You Don't Despise

Jensen wakes up alone the next morning, tangled in the white cotton sheets of Jared's bed. He doesn't know what time it is. It's gray out, as usual. Jensen brushes his teeth with Jared's toothbrush and thinks about rubbing soap into the bristles, but decides against it. His clothes are folded up on a chair. He pulls on his boxers and t-shirt.

Sandy's in the kitchen, standing over the stove in a slinky bathrobe and bare feet, making pancakes. Her hair's pulled back in pigtails. Jensen hovers in the doorway, uncertain, but Sandy looks up and waves her spatula at him, beaming.

"Good morning!" she says. "You want some coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be good," Jensen says. He's a little hung over and coffee sounds like the best idea in the world right now.

"Jared took the dogs out," Sandy says, like she's reading his mind. "Mugs are in the cabinet to the right of the sink."

"Thanks," Jensen says. He rummages around in the cabinet until he finds a pink mug with a little curly tail and a pig snout painted on the opposite side. It's the sort of thing Jared thinks is completely hilarious. Jensen pulls it off the shelf. The coffee's black and steaming, and he fills the mug right to the brim.

"It's kind of strong," Sandy warns. She flips the pancake in the skillet.

Jensen takes a sip, makes a face, and grabs for the sugar bowl on the counter. The coffee's a little strong in the way that Hitler was slightly misguided. Sandy apparently likes to drink tar first thing in the morning.

Sandy hums to herself as she lifts the edges of the pancake and peers under it, and Jensen feels a sudden rush of awkwardness. He's standing Jared's kitchen, watching Jared's girlfriend make pancakes, like it's a totally normal Saturday morning and Jensen spent the night passed out on the couch instead of curled up against Sandy with Jared's hand on his ass.

"You want a pancake? They're strawberry," Sandy says, and Jensen blinks and says, "Sure."

She turns off the heat and lifts the last pancake out of the skillet, adds it to the pile she's got waiting. "Take this over to the table," she says, handing the plate to Jensen.

He does. There's powdered sugar and butter and real maple syrup. Sandy comes over with plates and silverware for both of them and sets their places. They eat in companionable silence. The pancakes are the best Jensen's eaten since coming to Vancouver. He has three, glad that Jared isn't around to make fun of him for being a lard-ass.

Sandy gets up to take her plate to the sink and comes back with her own cup of coffee. She stands behind Jensen and touches his hair, running her fingers through it and down to trace around the curve of his ear.

"What are you doing?" Jensen asks, and then wants to smack himself in the face for asking such a stupid question.

"Not too sharp, are you," Sandy says, her tone light and teasing, and Jensen would bet good money that she's rolling her eyes and smiling.

Sandy sets her mug on the table and sits down. She puts her foot on Jensen's chair, her legs falling open, and that's when Jensen realizes she isn't wearing any underwear. All of his higher brain functions stop working simultaneously. He gets hard so fast his head spins, twelve pints of blood rushing straight to his cock.

Sandy grins and hikes up her bathrobe, and boy, now Jensen can _really_ see everything.

"I wasn't expecting that," he says, his hand tightening around his coffee cup.

"I'm full of surprises," Sandy says, and moves her hand down between her legs. She's pink and already wet, and Jensen can _smell_ her. At the first touch of her fingers, she throws her head back and moans.

"Holy shit," Jensen breathes, and Sandy looks up at him through her eyelashes, her fingers teasing, dipping inside, swirling all around.

"Jensen," she says, her voice a little uneven, "I want to come, and then I want you to fuck me right here on the kitchen table," and Jensen's clearly lost all sense of propriety and also his _mind_ , because he just leans forward and buries his face in her neck.

She and Jared use the same soap and she smells like him; she's got marks from his teeth on her throat. Jensen's doing this for all the wrong reasons, but he's the only one who knows that, and he's tired of trying to be a good person. He wants to leave his own bruises on Sandy in places where Jared will see them, later, after Jensen's gone home.

"Stop thinking so much," Sandy says. Jensen kisses her jaw, drops a hand down and slides two fingers inside her. She's slick and hot, pulsing a little around his fingers. When he curves them just right, she grunts and scrabbles at his shoulder with her free hand. He keeps his head down and watches the tendons in his wrist flex as he slides in and out of her body.

"Give me another finger," Sandy pants, her own fingers moving in tight little circles. Jensen slips in another finger, and Sandy makes a sort of hiccuping noise and comes, her whole body clenching.

Jensen's fingers are wrinkled when he pulls them out. He sucks them into his mouth, Sandy's taste already familiar from the night before. Sandy watches him, her eyes bright and wide open. She doesn't move, though, just keeps sitting there, like she's waiting to see what he'll do next.

He reaches out and tugs on the belt of her robe, pulling it open, sliding the fabric down over her shoulders until it pools around her waist. Her tits are clearly fake, but she's got large pink nipples and Jensen isn't about to complain. He cups a breast in each hand, feeling the weight of them, and rubs his thumbs over her nipples.

Sandy squirms and giggles. "Jensen, come _on_!" she says, and stands up, the robe falling off her entirely.

Jensen's so hard he's poking through the vent in his boxers. He strips off his t-shirt. Sandy bends down to rummage around in the pocket of her bathrobe, which doesn't help Jensen's state of mind any, and then she straightens up again with a condom in her hand.

Jensen barks out a surprised laugh. "You come prepared," he says.

"Well, I was hoping for some sex in the kitchen," Sandy says, cheerful and honest.

She's really something else. Jensen shakes his head, amused. Sandy hops up and perches on the table, spreading her thighs, and. Jesus. Jensen gets up, stripping off his boxers, and moves to stand between Sandy's legs.

"Want me to do it for you?" she asks, holding up the condom.

"Yeah," Jensen says. Sandy opens the wrapper, letting it fall to the floor, and rolls the condom down Jensen's cock, smirking at him. His hips buck forward helplessly into her touch. If he doesn't get inside her soon he's going to _die_ , no doubt about it.

"Okay," Sandy says, "come on." Jensen presses her back until she's lying flat on the table. He palms her hipbones, and she cants up her hips invitingly. Jensen slides right into her, and she's so hot and tight and perfect, and he feels his eyes rolling back into his head.

Sandy brings her legs up, the heels of her feet skidding over Jensen's ass. She rocks against him when he thrusts into her. Her hair spreads out over the table. She licks her fingers and rubs at her nipples, and Jensen has to close his eyes then.

He goes slow, rolling his hips against hers, thrusting deep and steady. Sandy keeps _giggling_ , which is disconcerting as fuck. "Are you laughing at me?" he pants.

"No," Sandy says, "no, keep going, _faster_ ," and Jensen opens his eyes and sees her lying there, all flushed and biting her lip. She giggles again. "Sorry, sorry," she says, "I can't help it, it's awful. It makes Jared crazy."

Sandy's way too coherent. Jensen wants to fuck the words right out of her mouth. He tilts her hips up more, changing the angle, and drives into her again. She gasps and grabs at his wrists, her nails digging in, and bucks up against him.

Jensen grins and lets his eyes fall shut again. He's getting close, and the noises Sandy keeps making aren't helping matters any. He reaches down between them to rub at Sandy's clit, but her hand's already there, and their fingers tangle together.

"God, _Jensen_ ," Sandy moans, and comes again, flexing hot and wonderful around his cock. He tugs her hips up to nestle even tighter against him, just grinding against her, and then he feels the touch of Sandy's tiny hand against his balls, and that's it for him. He groans and shakes, hearing the blood pounding in his ears and Sandy laughing delightedly.

He braces himself with his palms flat against the table and just pants for a minute or two, trying to pull himself together. He lets out a long breath. "Oh Jesus," he says shakily, and pulls out, holding on to the condom. He goes over and fumbles with the trash can, the lid sticking and refusing to open.

Sandy's still lying on the table, rubbing lazily between her legs. Jensen puts his boxers back on. He sits in his chair and pulls Sandy down into his lap, resting his hands at her waist.

"Why Jensen," Sandy says, smiling, and leans forward to kiss him, letting her arms wrap around his neck. They kiss slow and sweet, licking at each other's mouths, a gentle glide of lips and tongues. All of Jensen's muscles are loose and relaxed. Maybe he'll get up in a little while and have another pancake. They're really good pancakes.

The front door slams, and Jensen jerks in the chair, almost having a heart attack. Sandy pulls back and laughs at him, her head thrown back, pigtails swinging around.

The dogs come skidding into the kitchen, and Jared comes in after them, still holding Sadie's leash. He stops in the doorway and crosses his arms.

"Jensen! What the hell are you doing with my woman!" he bellows, and Jensen genuinely fears for his life for about five seconds, which is as long as Jared can ever pretend to be angry. Then Jared starts grinning and drops the leash. The dogs jump up around the chair, barking happily. Jensen gets dog drool on his ass.

"Sadie! Harley! Go lie down!" Sandy orders, and of course the dogs do exactly what she says.

Jared shakes his head. "They never listen to me like that," he says. He comes over and kisses Sandy, resting a hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Looks like you two managed to keep yourselves occupied without me," he says.

"We sure did," Sandy says. "Aren't you proud?"

Jensen watches them smiling at each other, Jared playing with the end of one of Sandy's pigtails. He thinks about his quiet apartment, his house in LA, his parents' house in Texas. Thinks about going for a run later, if it isn't raining. There are a thousand things he could be doing, really. He could call Mike and Tom, even, see what ridiculous antics they're getting up to.

"I need a shower," Jared announces, sniffing dramatically at his armpits. He pauses in the doorway and looks back at them, stripping off his shirt. "Are y'all coming or what?"

Unexpectedly, Jensen's afternoon has been booked solid.  



End file.
